


reassess my needs

by ShippingEverything



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Lorax (2012)
Genre: (they make out in the once-ler's office), Crossover, M/M, i hope ur happy now, i might write more of this because i hate myself, im imagining post-avengers loki bc i havent seen ragnarok yet shrug, slight implied sexual content, technically greed-ler/loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 03:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13895574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEverything/pseuds/ShippingEverything
Summary: The Once-ler scoffs. “Magic isn’t real.”The stranger laughs, but it’s mean. “A tree spirit follows you around, and you still pretend that magic is only for fairytales?”Or: the Once-ler unknowingly hooks up with everyone's favorite God of Mischief





	reassess my needs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chai_lattes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chai_lattes/gifts).



> i have very few regrets. the fact that im actually pretty fucking proud of this fic is one of them
> 
> regardless, the joke is complete. let no one accuse me of not committing to the bit. i hope youre happy maj
> 
> title from The Lorax album's demo song _Biggering_ , because if we're going to write a fic that 13 year old Lydia would love, let's just go all the way right

“That was quite the performance you put on out there.”

The Once-ler wheels around, hands lifted in a sloppy mockery of self-defense. A man with long black hair and a leather cloak has draped himself on the Once-ler’s office couch. the Once-ler puts his left hand into his pocket, clicking his emergency button.

“It won’t work,” The handsome stranger drawls, freezing the Once-ler in his tracks once again.

“How do you know?” He asks. The stranger grins at him, an expression that is at once utterly charming and also incredibly terrifying.

“Magic,” The stranger says, as matter-of-factly as the Once-ler would say that thneeds are the best product ever. Like it’s a simple fact that the Once-ler should’ve already known.

The Once-ler scoffs. “Magic isn’t real.”

The stranger laughs, but it’s mean. “A tree spirit follows you around, and you still pretend that magic is only for fairytales?”

The Once-ler falters.

“You… You know about-” The Once-ler cuts himself off, choking on the words. He can’t even say _his_ name, as though it’ll call _him_ to the room, as though _not_ speaking _his_ name makes _him_ any less real or the Once-ler feel any less guilty. “ _Him_? Did _he_ send you?”

The stranger rolls his eyes. “I don’t run errands for nymphs. I merely know about much, young one.”

The Once-ler frowns, ready to say that he’s not a _kid_ , when the man stands. the Once-ler’s eyes follow him up. And up, and up, and up, _and up_ , until the Once-ler’s own head is tilted back ever so slightly to meet the stranger’s eyes. The Once-ler blinks.

The Once-ler is very tall, he would’ve known even without being called ‘stick bug’ and ‘giraffe’ and even _‘beanpole’_ all through his life because he effortlessly looms over people, sees over crowds, reaches above even the highest shelves without standing on his toes, but this man… this man is _taller_. It’s a new experience, to be the one looking up. The stranger’s relaxed smile spreads into a smirk, as though he can read the Once-ler’s mind, and the Once-ler swallows, mouth suddenly dry. Something warm settles in his chest, new and uncomfortable but not entirely unwanted. After a long moment of silence, stretched thick with tension, the Once-ler manages to say, “I’m not a kid.”

“I never called you a child, just young. And everyone is young when compared to me.”

the Once-ler looks the man over, from his high boots to his thin, leather-clad legs, to his weird dress/shirt to his youthful bright blue eyes. No part of him looks any older than the Once-ler, though the Once-ler gives him another look to double check. He may take more time on his second look than is strictly necessary, and the stranger is raising an eyebrow, amused, by the time the Once-ler finishes.

“Had your fill?”

“I was just,” the Once-ler starts, before cutting himself off. He’s a grown man, in his own office, and he doesn’t have to explain himself to an intruder. “You don’t look old.”

The man hums. “Looks can be deceiving, Mr. Once-ler. Actually, is that a first name or a last name?”

“It’s-”

“Or would you just prefer I call you _Oncie_?” The way that nickname slides off the man’s tongue… it’s borderline indecent. the Once-ler shivers, unable to stop himself, and finally realizes what the warm feeling is: arousal.

“Only my mother calls me that,” He says, instead of groaning or screaming or just staring. He’s quite proud of himself for that.

“Hm,” The stranger says. He begins to walk, circling the Once-ler. It takes all of the Once-ler’s strength to stay still as he feels the stranger eyeing him. “No friends? No _lover_? No, of course not, not for the genius and private Once-ler. Probably afraid they’d steal your ideas, hm?”

The stranger’s back in front of the Once-ler, closer than before, maybe even close enough to hear the Once-ler’s wildly beating heart. They stand in silence, the Once-ler trying to regulate his breathing and the stranger staring down at him with those penetrating, icy, cerulean eyes. The Once-ler clears his throat, then does it again. It does nothing to remove the edge from his voice when he whispers, “Who are you?”

The stranger grins. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But you can call me Loki.”

 _Loki_. What kind of name is that? Though someone named _Once-ler_ can’t really talk. “Well, Loki, what do you want from me?”

“I think the better question is, what do _you_ want from _me_?” Loki asks, smiling at how the Once-ler’s breath hitches in his throat at the words. Loki places a finger on the Once-ler’s chest trailing it up slowly as he speaks. “I’ve been in your office all day, if I wanted something from you, I could’ve easily taken it. I rarely want for anything, Mr. Once-ler.”

The Once-ler can’t manage any words, suddenly. Loki’s finger traces a line up the Once-ler’s neck, follows his jawline until he hooks it under the Once-ler’s chin. He tilts the Once-ler’s head up even more, smiling meanly at what the Once-ler imagines must be clear lust written all over his face.

“Hm, what _ever_ could _you_ want, Mr. Once-ler?”

 _You_ , the Once-ler thinks, feels, breathes. Loki’s grin grows, but before he can speak again, the Once-ler launches himself at Loki, clutching at his long, curly hair and all but shoving his tongue in Loki’s mouth. Loki reciprocates in kind, walking them backwards until they end up falling onto the Once-ler’s office couch, the Once-ler straddling Loki’s lap. Loki smirks up at him and the Once-ler is absolutely _aching_ to be touched in any way. He pulls Loki back into another bruising kiss, losing himself in the sensation of their tongues brushing, of Loki’s hands under his coat and on his back, of his fingers running through Loki’s thick hair. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when his desk phone rattles loudly, breaking the two apart. They stare at each other for a second, before the phone rings again. The Once-ler scrambles up, running to pick it up.

“H-Hello?” The Once-ler clears his throat, tries to act like he’s not beyond aroused. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“ _It’s your_ mother _, Oncie!_ ” The Once-ler chokes on air, coughing loudly. His mother doesn’t seem to notice. “ _Are you ready for the meeting in fifteen minutes? I’m sending your aunt up to your office to get you._ ”

“I- What? Fifteen minutes? Mom-”

“ _That’s enough backtalk, Oncie_ ,” His mother cuts off. “ _I’ll see you there._ ”

The Once-ler opens his mouth again, but he’s greeted only by the dial tone. He hangs up and places his head in his hands, regulating his breathing. After a moment, he lifts his head. “Listen, Loki, I’m really sorry but-”

The Once-ler turns around to see his office empty. _Of course_. He reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose. Today has been… a lot. He wills his boner away, readies himself for his meeting, and gets ready to go. As he leaves his office, something catches his eye: a piece of paper with tight, cursive scrawl on it. _I’ll find you later, Mr. Once-ler. Be sure to think about what you want_.

The Once-ler would like to say that he doesn’t clutch the note to his chest and turn bright red, barely containing a sudden swell of excitement, but, well. He supposes that you can’t _always_ get what you want.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this mess, i hope you enjoyed
> 
> [Main Tumblr (pldubrahs)](http://www.pldubrahs.tumblr.com) | [Writing Tumblr (nacreousglowclouds)](http://nacreousglowclouds.tumblr.com/) | [Personal Twitter (@squidias)](http://twitter.com/squidias)


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